


My Heart at Your Right Hand

by yashkonu



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-28 09:05:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5085994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yashkonu/pseuds/yashkonu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weiss and Yang hunt the Grimm in Atlas. Things seldom go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey Weiss?”

“Yes, Yang?”

“Fuck Atlas.”

Weiss nodded, then cursed as the motion let the frigid wind catch her hood and tear it back. Windborne sleet whipped at her face until she replaced it with numb and fumbling fingers. The gloves could only do so much. Setting up a tent should have taken five minutes, tops, but that assumed they weren't trying to do it in a damned blizzard. The forecast had been clear for the next _week_ and yet here they were, chilled to the bone by cutting wind and nearly soaked through.

“Alright, I think I’ve just about got- fuck!” Yang was barely visible through the swirling maelstrom, and with the cloud cover they had perhaps a half hour before the last scraps of sunset faded.

“Oh, give me that.”

“No, look I've got it- _shit!”_

_“Yang Xiao Long you give me that right this instant.”_

Minutes later they were huddled inside the blessed sanctuary, warming their hands over a small dust-fueled heater. Portable, smokeless, and as expensive as it was effective.

“Totally could have got it,” Yang grumbled as she shrugged off her sodden overcoat, “Just hard to… y’know, numb fingers.”

“They'd have been gangrenous by the time you got done.” Weiss slipped her parka off in turn, laying it as flat as possible on the floor of the tent. She’d need it as dry as possible when they set out in the morning; she didn't fancy taking on a sleuth of Ursas -- assuming their intel was reliable -- in a soggy coat.

Yang tongued her cheek as she rolled out her sleeping bag.

Weiss pointedly avoided looking at her teammate as she did the same.

“Weiss, listen... about last night, I-”

“It’s fine.”

Yang flinched. “Right. Well. That's… good.”

From the cozy confines of her bedroll, Weiss sighed. She propped herself up on an elbow, finally meeting Yang’s eyes. “Yang, I didn't say no.”

Yang shrugged. “Yeah, well you sure didn't say yes.”

“I- I know that! It’s just… a lot to think about.” _And you sprung it on me on the first night of a week-long mission together, you_ utter _dunce._ “I admit that… dating… you… could be nice, but I still need time to think about it.”

“Right, well…” Yang flashed an uneasy smile as she fished their rations for the evening from her pack. “Keep me posted on how that thinking goes, yeah?”

She passed a plastic-wrapped meal across to Weiss, who ripped it open with a frown. “Ugh, dinner rations. Why do they _always_ try to make something elaborate? A ham sandwich would be perfectly fine, but _no_ , they have to try and figure out how to freeze-dry manicotti.”

“Hey, th’ man’cotti was alrigh,” Yang mumbled around a mouthful of dehydrated pasta salad. She swallowed with a slight wince. “Once you got past the texture, anyway. And the flavor, I guess.”

Weiss gave her a dubious look before digging in. Taste aside, the rations were carefully designed to keep their energy up with only two, _maybe_ three quick meals over a long day of combat and trekking through untamed wilds. She would just have to tough it out.

The frigid wind howled around their refuge as Weiss and Yang settled in for the night. Weiss had set up a simple network of sentry glyphs around their clearing, designed to trigger a flare should anything attempt to cross the invisible boundary. Doing so saved them the trouble of taking shifts on watch, and thereby allowed them to sleep longer and more soundly. Yang flicked off the small light in the tent and they slept, huddled close around the heater.

 

* * *

 

Deep in the night, a chorus of ragged howls swept through the woods. Yang jolted awake, listening intently until the sound repeated, closer this time. Much closer.

“Weiss,” she hissed, leaning close to the dozing girl, “we’ve got company, wake up!”

“Nguh- Yang? What the hell are y-”

Another batch of howls, mixed with low snarling, answered her question succinctly.

_“Beowolves?_ There weren't supposed to be any damn Beowolves!”

“You want to tell them that? I get the feeling they aren't gonna be super interested in-”

The sentry flare doused the clearing with blinding crimson light, accompanied by furious snarls and roars.

“Coat on _now!_ We need to get out of here, Weiss,” Yang growled, hastily throwing on her still-drying overcoat, “We signed on for a group of Ursas, not Ursas _and_ Beos! And _definitely_ not in a midnight blizzard!”

Weiss threw on her parka and retrieved Myrtenaster, dashing through the tent flap behind Yang just as the light of the flare began to fade. A veritable sea of glowing red eyes lurked just beyond the trees, bony faceplates glinting in the dying light.

The flare sputtered out, and a wall of teeming darkness surged forward.

Bursts of light like camera flashes lit the battle in vivid stills as Ember Celica poured forth explosive death. Rending claws encroached, time and again, only to be beaten back by pummeling fists and detonating shells, precise thrusts and glowing glyphs. A flare of red dust finally caught on an unfortunate tree, casting just enough light to reveal the rows upon rows of Grimm surrounding them. Too many to count, and definitely too many to kill.

“Yang…”

“I know, Weiss. I know.” Her eyes outshone the firelight, burning crimson, and the steely determination in them was enough to send a chill deeper than the cold through Weiss’s blood. “I’ve got a plan.”

“No offense intended, Yang, but your plans are usually just telling someone to throw you at something. Or you throwing someone… at…” She whipped her head up to meet Yang’s eyes, panic and pleading dancing in her own. “No- Yang, you _can’t_.”

“I have to.”

“Yang _no!_ There’s no way you’d make it out and- and-”

“I’m sorry, Weiss. I just…” She smiled, and Weiss’s heart broke. “I wish we’d had more time. Tell Ruby…” She looked away for just a moment, blinking rapidly. “Shit, I’m no good at this. Tell her something good, okay?”

“Yang _please,_ don’t-”

A snarl cut through her words, deep and powerful. A hulking figure strode through the assembled horde, looming huge even on all fours. A Greater Beowolf, no doubt the leader of the group. It rushed them with a roar, and Weiss was wrapped in Yang’s arms in an instant.

Time slowed to a crawl.

The beast raised a claw, cracked and blood-stained talons glinting in the dancing firelight.

The ground dropped out from beneath her.

Yang’s semblance flared hot enough to sear a handprint into Weiss’s shoulder, burning clean through her coat.

She flew.

The beowolf’s claw fell like an executioner’s axe, onto the extended right arm that had held her only a moment before.

Weiss screamed, but the wind stole away her words.


	2. Chapter 2

Weiss had a mantra, held in reserve for the times she felt she might break. It was simple, perhaps silly, but she held it in her mind like a prayer, rolled it around, felt the shape of the words burned into her being by sheer repetition. They brought to mind the years of struggle that had sculpted her into something strong, something steadfast enough to endure.

_Head up, shoulders back, right foot forward._

She ran her fingertips along the band of leather, worn to velvety softness by years of loving use. Her touch reached the tear along the band, the wide break in the metal around it. One half of Ember Celica, cracked and warped. It was all she had found, when she had ventured back into the wilds. It, a copse of scorched trees, and a patch of carmine snow. She had scrubbed the stains from the leather and steel five days later, when she could bear to look at them.

_Head up, shoulders back, right foot forward._

A cheerful laugh reached her ears, muffled by the door before her. “Not _now,_ Blake! Weiss and Yang just got here!”

_Head up, like she always held hers. She was always so proud, so confident. She was radiant, and you were so blinded by it you couldn’t even see how much you loved her. Not until that light went out._

The door was flung wide, and Ruby stood before her. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed, and her smile held a warmth Weiss knew she’d never see in it again. “Welcome back, Weiss!” Their eyes met, and her smile fell like petals from a dying bloom. “What’s wrong?”

_Shoulders back, like hers were the first time you noticed how beautiful she was. The first time you bested her in a sparring match, when you knocked her to the floor and she sat up on her hands, beaming proudly. “Nice moves, princess,” she had said, and for once the nickname didn’t feel like mocking. “You got me good.”_

Ruby’s eyes scoured her face as her brow steadily furrowed. “Weiss, where’s Yang?”

Weiss bit her lip, hard, and her gaze flicked unconsciously to the shattered gauntlet in her hands.

Ruby’s gaze followed, and she gasped when recognition dawned. Tears leapt to her eyes, and when she looked back to Weiss she looked fearful, desperate for some denial, some misunderstanding. “Weiss, where’s my sister?”

_Right foot forward, like the arm that delivered you from death. Like the handprint burn seared into your shoulder, that you’ll never, ever allow to fade._

Weiss’s composure finally crumbled and she fell to her knees with a strangled sob, head in her hands. Jumbled apologies spilled from her lips, fragmented sentences as broken as her heart. Ruby’s arms were around her, tremors wracking her frame as she wept in near silence, clinging to Weiss as though she might disappear. Blake materialized and embraced them both, murmuring soft comforts that whittled away at the crushing grief, slowly, patiently. Ember Celica slipped from her grasp and she huddled close to her team, weathering the storm together.

In time the sharp burn of grief faded to a bone-deep ache, dulled by exhaustion and sympathy. Blake ushered them both inside with gentle whispers and guiding hands, coaxing Ruby to lie shuddering in bed and Weiss to curl beside them on the couch. Their hand ran in curves along her head and neck, steadying and soothing until she could breathe, until she could see.

“Ruby knows it wasn’t your fault, Weiss. Do you?”

“I can’t… I don’t know.” Weiss lifted her bloodshot eyes to meet Blake’s. “How are you… _okay?_ How are you _stable?_ ”

They shook their head, looking away. “I’m not okay, Weiss. I’m not okay. But I’m stable right now because you and Ruby need me to be. That and… because I’ve done this before. More times than I like to think about.”

Weiss nodded, slowly. She remembered the times when they still attended Beacon, when she would wake to strangled cries in the dead of night. Ruby was always there, sometimes wiping the sweat from their brow with a cool cloth, sometimes easing their hands away from fresh wounds clawed into their forearms. The scars remained, ragged strips of pale against their ebony skin.

“It wasn’t your fault, Weiss. You have to believe that, or…” They turned an arm, inspecting the marred surface with tired eyes. “You have to believe that.”

Weiss remained silent. Any reply she might have given was cut off by a series of chirps from her scroll. She fished it from her pocket, dreading the prospect of a conversation, only to gasp at the words flashing red onscreen.

_EMERGENCY ALERT: HUNT PARTNER REQUESTS ASSISTANCE_

It chimed in the crystalline stillness that met the words, until Blake reached across gingerly to tap the button which read _ASSISTANCE EN ROUTE._

“She’s… she might be…” It hurt too much to hope, too much to say the words, lest the brittle remnants of her strength be dashed away.

“Go, Weiss. I’ll tell Ruby you went home. If this isn't… if she’s not…”

Weiss spared them the rest of the sentence with an understanding nod.

“I don't want to tell her until we know for sure.” Blake grinned, thin and tight. “Try not to keep us in suspense, alright?”

The weather had improved greatly when Weiss returned to Atlas, though a deep chill still suffused the air. The midday sun shone bright as she trudged through the woods, following the path indicated by her scroll. Yang’s distress signal was unsteady; it jittered around on the map and sometimes vanished entirely, likely from damage to the scroll itself.

She passed a clearing, shuddering at the cruel familiarity of the place. The snow was no longer dyed crimson, the stain washed away by a fresh downfall, but the memory was vivid enough on its own. She slipped between scorched trunks and across ash-dusted snow, tracking the signal with the occasional frustrated noise as it flickered and failed.

In time she came to a sheer cliff, where the terrain had been raised and torn asunder by ancient dust magics long since forbidden. This region of Atlas was riddled with sites such as this, where the land bore the scars of battles now consigned to dusty and forgotten tomes. Weiss ran a gloved hand along the exposed stone, marveling at the extent of the damage even as she continued to follow Yang’s signal. A spell of this scale had surely consumed the life of its caster, and likely those of anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. How easily, she thought, could human hands -- and they were unmistakably human; faunus mages had never warped nature so fiercely -- turn a landmark into a mass grave.

Here a yawning crack split the cliffside, the edges worn smooth by centuries of howling winds and shifting seasons. The signal appeared to be somewhere within, though its instability made it impossible to pinpoint. Weiss cocked an eyebrow at the meters of displaced bedrock towering over the cavern.

_Well, that would certainly explain the poor signal._

She pocketed her scroll in exchange for a flashlight; if the GPS had been unreliable outside, it would be worthless with double the interference. The interior of the cave was dry and clear of snow only a few feet past the entrance. Weiss followed the curving tunnel with the heel of her hand on Myrtenaster’s hilt, eyeing each deeper shadow with caution. Nowhere could truly be safe from the Grimm. They tended to avoid these dust-born scars on the landscape, at least when they traveled in packs, but lone Grimm were unpredictable at best.

A subtle sound caught her ears, the quiet scrape of metal against stone. Not Grimm, then. She swung the flashlight’s beam in the direction of the noise, onto a narrow split in the wall she might otherwise have missed.

A torn scrap of golden fabric was caught on the stone, beside a gap just wide enough to slip through.

She ducked through cautiously, though not quite cautiously enough to avoid cracking her forehead on a low-hanging slab of rock. She dropped the light with a pained hiss, cursing as it rolled away.

_-CH-CHACK_ -

Weiss froze. Ragged breathing reached her ears, echoing off the cold stone. The flashlight rolled, and its beam came to rest on a figure slumped against the wall.

Weiss's breath caught in her throat.

Strips of shredded cloth were wrapped thick around her neck and torso, many of them soaked through with blood. Her wild mane of golden blonde was matted with dirt and blood, and hung limply to obscure her face. Behind the curtain of hair a single crimson eye was visible, clouded by exhaustion but peering intently into the darkness beyond the glare of the fallen flashlight. Her left arm was extended, propped against her knee but shaking with the Ember Celica’s weight regardless.

Weiss wasn't looking at her left arm.

She was looking at her right shoulder, where the improvised bandages were piled thickest.

It wasn't there. The arm that had saved Weiss's life now ended at the shoulder.

Through the surging conflict of sorrow and relief, Weiss choked out her name.

_“Yang…”_

Yang was silent and still for a moment, long enough for Weiss to wonder if she were even conscious. Then the rigid arm dropped to her side, and she shook with a hoarse noise Weiss could only hope was a laugh.

She swallowed hard enough for even Weiss to hear, and when she spoke her voice was gravel and mud. “You got my message.”

Weiss dashed to her side in a heartbeat, checking over the worst of the wounds with her lip caught tight between her teeth. She pulled the hair from Yang’s face as carefully as possible, wincing at the sticky cling of clotted blood. The right side of her face was mangled by bone-deep gashes of the sort Weiss had never expected to see outside a morgue. Weiss shuddered at the severity of the wounds, then paused. Yang hadn’t responded at all since her first words.

“Yang?”

No reply.

Yang’s good eye had begun to drift shut, but in the moment before it closed Weiss caught a sliver of clouded lilac.

_If she was on borrowed time before,_ Weiss thought, stripping her gloves and unwinding the worst of the bandages, _then without her semblance she doesn’t stand a chance._

Bracing herself beside the savaged shoulder, Weiss focused. She drew her aura forth, felt the flow begin to surge between her fingertips as she lowered them to Yang’s tattered flesh. Slowly at first, then accelerating as their connection deepened, the energy passed from Weiss’s hands into Yang. Before her eyes the wounds began to stitch themselves shut, shredded muscle re-forming and fresh skin overlaying the damage.

A ragged gasp burst from Yang’s chest as she jolted back to consciousness, returned from the brink by Weiss’s bolstering aura. Her breath caught after a few deep gulps of air and she doubled over with sickening coughs, her hand flying to her mouth and coming away dripping red.

Weiss buckled down harder, dragging the energy from her soul with every scrap of focus she could muster. “Stay with me, Yang!”

She could feel herself beginning to flag, but refused to buckle under the task. Damaged tissue wove together as she worked, oozing gashes ceasing to bleed and cracked ribs snapping back into place.

“Weiss,” Yang croaked, gritting her teeth as her body reconstructed itself, “slow… slow down or you’ll-”

“Don't talk, I need to focus.” Weiss’s jaw set as she felt her aura scraping bottom. She needed _more_. She had to be sure, absolutely sure that she had done everything she could, had given her utmost to protect the one who’d done the same for her. She ground her teeth, ignoring her trembling hands and quickening heart.

A calloused hand, caked with dried blood, came to grasp both of hers together. “It’s alright, Weiss. It’s alright now.”

The flow faded slowly to nothing, and Weiss panted at the wave of exhaustion that washed over her.

“I thought you were dead, Yang.”

Yang smiled, and Weiss felt her heart begin to heal.

“Surprise.”


	3. Chapter 3

“We could have just called them, you know.”

Their car hissed smoothly along the streets of Vale, considerably faster than the posted speed limits. Weiss had somewhere to be, and no trifling thing like _law enforcement_ was going to stand between her and getting there. Yang’s hand rested on her thigh, a continual reminder of her presence.

“We could have, yeah, but… I dunno, I think news like this is best delivered face-to-face, y'know? Besides,” Yang grinned, “I wanna see the look on Ruby’s face.”

A dozen chiding remarks leapt to Weiss’s tongue, and were bitten back. She wasn't sure she could muster the indignation for a scolding right now, not when she was so elated by a simple touch on her thigh. She simply lowered a hand to grip Yang’s gently, letting her teammate’s warmth melt away her doubts. Weiss allowed a smile to ease its way onto her face; over the last week she had almost forgotten what it felt like.

“Well _you_ get to deal with her, then. Forgive me if I don't feel like being tackled.”

Yang laughed, bright and clear, and Weiss blushed without quite knowing why. “After a week like that, I think I'm down for a little overzealous TLC.”

Weiss’s smile faltered. “Y-yes, I suppose you would be. How is your… ah…”

“The arm?” Yang’s hand drifted to her right shoulder, gently massaging the still-tender muscle there. “You dumped a Weiss-load of aura directly into it; I didn't even bother bandaging it this morning. Still pretty sore though.”

“I meant…” Weiss sighed, gripping the wheel a bit tighter. “You lost an _arm_ , Yang, but you're acting like it was just a particularly nasty flesh wound. I'm not asking if your body is okay, I'm asking if _you're_ okay.”

“Oh.” Yang squirmed a bit in her seat. “I… that's a tougher question. I've got a lot of thinking to do, y'know? The whole huntress thing kinda relies on me having all my bits attached, especially with _my_ fighting style. So… where does that leave me? I'm not really the ‘early retirement’ type, but what else can I do? Oh, and the phantom pains are a bitch and a half.”

“Well… perhaps we can look into prosthetics? I don't know of anything on the market that could handle your semblance, but I do know a rather large business with a rather large R&D department.”

Yang opened her mouth to speak, then paused. Slowly, a knowing grin crept onto her face, and she turned to Weiss with her head cocked to the side. “Now, maybe this is just wishful thinking on my part, but that ‘we’ sounded a lot like a ‘you and me’ kind of we. Like an ‘us, together’ kind of we?”

Heat rushed to Weiss’s face, and she silently damned the genes that had given her such pale skin. “I-it might have been. Th-that kind of we, I mean. We should… there’s definitely a conversation to be had, but later.”

Yang contented herself with an impish grin. There was _definitely_ a _conversation_ to be had. They slowed to a stop before Ruby and Blake’s home, and before Yang could so much as unbuckle her seatbelt Weiss was there, holding open her door and offering a hand.

Yang took it with a smile, allowing the diminutive girl to lift her from her seat with ease. Weiss was built slender, and considerably smaller than the rest of her team, but was no less powerful for it. Dense, wiry muscle ran solid throughout her lithe frame, highlighted in moments such as this. Yang could get lost in the subtle movements, the ripple and slide of every carefully honed sinew in her back, arms, legs.

“So does this mean you're gonna pamper me from now on?” Yang twisted her hand around dexterously, using the motion to pull Weiss close to her chest. “Because a girl could get _used_ to that.”

It was the contrast that always did Weiss in, really. The soft warmth of Yang’s chest juxtaposed against the unyielding ridges of her stomach -- it was hardly fair, and it never failed to steal the words from her tongue before they could be spoken. Her mouth dropped open soundlessly, and she did her utmost to keep her eyes on Yang’s, on the mischief sparkling bright in lilac pools. She was beginning to wonder how much of their _conversation_ would consist of words.

With an effort, Weiss pulled away. “Priorities, Yang. We have some news for your sister and her partner, yes? Something about you not being dead?” Without waiting for a reply, she spun on her heel and headed for the door with Yang in tow.

Yang took the lead when they reached the door, hammering firmly on the wood with her remaining hand. All was silent and still for a long moment, but just as Yang reached out to knock again a muffled “I’ll get it” sounded through the door. Moments later it eased open smoothly to reveal Blake, standing stock-still with a half-formed sentence frozen on their lips.

Blake blinked twice.

Their eyes moved from Yang’s face, to her missing arm, to Weiss, and back once more to her face.

They blinked again, and finally thought to close their mouth.

They stepped forward with smooth, tempered grace, and wrapped Yang in a hug. A moderately crushing hug, if the sudden definition in their triceps was anything to go by. Yang’s arm came around to rest on their back, rubbing gentle circles in the tense muscle.

“I'm alright, Blake,” Yang murmured, soft and low into sensitive ears twitching erratically with emotion, “you didn't lose me too.”

When they parted, Blake’s cheeks were stained with tears, soon wiped away by the ends of their sleeves. Long sleeves, Weiss noted with concern. Blake excused themself, darting into the house to retrieve Ruby. Weiss and Yang shared a look, equal parts worry and relief. Blake preferred to suffer in private, behind locked doors and drawn curtains. The signs were there, though, hairline cracks in a careful façade.

A sudden series of staccato _woosh_ es announced Ruby’s arrival, skidding to a petal-wreathed halt in the hallway across from the open door. In the brief, still moment that followed, Weiss thought to lean a steadying weight against Yang’s back. Just in time, too, because not a second later Yang rocked back with the sudden impact of her younger sister hurtling into her chest. Fragrant petals fell in a silent rain as Ruby clutched at Yang’s broad shoulders, shuddering sobs and cries of relief muffled by the fabric of her coat.

Ruby’s calloused hands came to cup her face, silver eyes shining with joy despite the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “Sis, are you…” A hand came away from Yang’s face, sliding gingerly over her right shoulder. Ruby shuddered, stung by some ghost of a pain she’d never felt. “Are you okay?”

Yang smiled at her, that soft, warm smile overflowing with boundless love -- reserved for Ruby, and her alone. “I’m okay, sis. Just lost some weight, that’s all.”

Ruby socked her shoulder -- her _left_ shoulder -- as she scrubbed away at her tears. _“Way_ too soon, Yang.”

“Hey, it’s my arm,” Yang chuckled, tousling her sister's hair, “I think I should get to decide when we’re allowed to joke about it.”

From there the evening passed in quiet companionship. Soft conversations, murmured around the hearth Yang was kind enough to light herself, carried them through the twilight hours and into the evening. They shared a hearty beef stew, courtesy of Blake -- who was rapidly becoming an excellent cook -- and accompanying biscuits, courtesy of Ruby -- who was becoming an excellent baker just as quickly -- in rapturous silence. Yang’s spoon clattered into her bowl when she finished, and she loudly proclaimed that it was the best meal she’d eaten all week.

No one else laughed, but Yang laughed enough to cover for them all. 

 

* * *

 

 

The apartment door shut behind Weiss with a subtle _click_. She and Yang had shared the place for several months, ever since Ruby and Blake had quietly determined to find their own place. It was far too large for just the two of them, really, but it was comfortable, situated in a nice part of town, and money was little object. Life together had been strange at first, but routine soon settled in, as it so often will.

Returning together at last, after so harsh a week away, had done an admirable job of erasing that routine. Weiss stood, her hand still on the doorknob and her eyes on her own warped reflection in the polished metal, wondering what she was supposed to do now.

She wasn’t left wondering long.

A halo of wild blonde eclipsed her reflection, a hand on her shoulder turned her gently around. There was something in Yang’s eyes, some familiar hunger Weiss knew well. She had seen it before, or felt it, perhaps, though whether it was in her own eyes or Yang’s she could never be sure. In either case, she hoped dearly that Yang was seeing the same hunger in her.

_Priorities, Weiss._

She cleared her throat to banish any tremor that may have crept in. “So, we were going to have a conversation?”

Yang grinned, though Weiss swore she could pick out a hint of disappointment. Maybe she was just projecting. “Right, something about that ‘thinking’ you said you were gonna do?”

Weiss ushered her over to sit side-by-side on the apartment’s spacious couch. Yang watched her in expectant silence, long enough for Weiss to realize she would have to take the initiative in this particular talk.

“Oh, where do I start…”

“Well I don’t mean to rush you, but my heart’s about halfway up my throat right now.”

Weiss suppressed a chuckle as she strove to organize her thoughts. “I’ve been… attracted to you for years now, in some form or another. I suppose I just never knew what to _do_ with that attraction, what to make of it, if that makes any sense at all. You’ve always been so…”

_Beautiful, powerful, radiant_

“... Charming, I could never work out what my feelings _meant_.”

Yang cocked her head to the side. “Past tense there, I can’t help but notice. You think you’ve figured it out, now?”

“I think so. When you were…” a flickering glance at Yang's right side, “... gone, I had to come to terms with the idea that I might never… might never see you again. I can’t tell you how much that hurt. Why would it kill me like that if I didn't…” Weiss’s fists balled on her lap as she drew a deep, unsteady breath. “... if I didn't love you?”

She didn’t dare look Yang in the eyes, not after a sentence like that one. Instead she kept her gaze on her fists, counting the wrinkles on each knuckle.

“Y’know… while I was out there -- aura running on empty, missing an arm, who _knows_ how many fractures -- that whole time, I had like… three thoughts that kept me going. My semblance runs on emotion, you know how it is. First was just… I can’t die on Ruby _._ She’s come a long way since we were kids, but losing me… I know it comes across kinda boastful, but I don't think she’d be okay for a long, long time. Second was pretty much the same thought but for Blake. They’ve lost enough friends. Third… was that I never found out your answer.”

Weiss turned to meet Yang’s eyes, a smile growing on her features. “I guess you got your answer, then.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

Neither would ever really be sure who moved first, and neither would ever particularly care. What mattered was the way they crashed together, a week of trauma and years of simmering, building tension bursting free in an instant. Weiss’s hands on her back, on her shoulders, threading through her hair and cradling her head as their lips came together. The taste of Weiss’s lips, the feel of her tongue -- the shiver and gasp that ran through her when Yang’s lips found that spot on her neck.

When they parted, breath heavy and eyes half-lidded, Weiss found herself flat atop Yang’s chest, straddling her teammate-turned-girlfriend. _Girlfriend._ It was almost too much to believe, after the heartache of the past few days, that something so _good_ could come of so much agony, so many tears shed. Weiss listened to their mismatched heartbeats, drew comfort from the way the rhythms danced around one another.

 _Thump-Thump, Th-Thump._ Still alive, still together. _Th-Thump, Thump-Thump_. Still together, still alive.

Warm fingers ran down her spine and she shivered, tightened her grip on Yang’s shirt ever so slightly. A thought struck her, and heat leapt to her cheeks.

“Yang, do you…? Would you like to… ah…”

Yang _hmm_ ed, content and mildly inquisitive.

“I… perhaps this is a bit forward, but… if we’re, you know… _dating_ now…” Dust, how did people just _ask_ this? “I thought perhaps you might like to… ah…”

“Weiss, are you asking if I want to bang?”

If she had been anything shy of crimson before, that was no longer the case.

“I! That- Well-” She buried her face in the nearest pliable surface, which just so happened to be Yang’s chest. From somewhere in her cleavage, Yang caught a muffled “Yes.”

“Well in _that_ case…” Those devilish fingers scratched parallel lines of heat down Weiss’s spine once more, the touch this time laden with intent. Yang’s thumb caught on the edge of her skirt, tugging gently. “I’d do it myself, but I’m a bit… ah…”

“If you even _think_ about saying ‘short-handed,’” Weiss grumbled as she sat up, “I’m leaving.”

Yang grinned playfully but kept her peace as Weiss shimmied out of her skirt, though her smile faltered when she caught a grain of apprehension in Weiss’s expression.

“You okay, Weiss? We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable with it, alright?”

“N-No! I do, it’s just… I haven't… you know…”

“You haven't… oh. _Oh._ But you want to? With me?”

Weiss nodded rapidly, not trusting herself to speak.

 _“Well,_ then. Why don’t you move those hips up here and let me have a taste?” Yang’s grin turned lascivious, and Weiss found herself wondering if ‘embarrassment’ was accepted as an official cause of death. She allowed herself a deep breath before easing off the remainder of her outfit, shivering at the sudden chill against her exposed skin. Yang’s hand guided hers to the arm of the couch above her head, and she slowly, hesitantly, eased herself into position.

“Are you sure about this, Yang? I-I mean, I don’t want to accidentally-” Her words cut off with a startled yelp as Yang, impatient, pulled her the last few inches with a soft grunt and a firm grip on her rear. A low, clipped groan escaped her as Yang set to work, laving long, slow strokes of wet heat that lit her nerves with spreading warmth. She dropped her head, watching Yang’s enthusiastic efforts through half-lidded eyes as she gripped the couch and fought to keep from grinding her hips against that wonderful friction.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Yang…” She felt, rather than saw, Yang smile at her praise, then gasped and gripped the couch nearly tight enough to shred the fabric as her lover redoubled her efforts.

Yang, for her part, relished every quiver and jolt that ran through Weiss’s frame, every gasp and moan her tongue could coax forth. Her hand came to the side of Weiss’s hip, large enough to grip it comfortably, adjusting the angle to better-

Weiss’s breath caught entirely for a moment and she went rigid, her hands entangling themselves in Yang’s hair as she silently gasped and shook, overcome by waves of electric pleasure. When the static faded from her vision she eased herself away from Yang’s lips, sliding back down to lie against her chest once more, shivering with the occasional aftershock.

Yang hummed softly, and Weiss pressed a sloppy kiss to her lips. She wasn’t sure how to feel about the taste that flooded her mouth, but allowed the kiss to deepen regardless, trailing her hand down Yang’s chest and ridged stomach to delve between muscular thighs. Her free hand slipped back along Yang’s neck to cup her head, sliding between the golden locks with measured care.

“Let me know what works, okay? I’m new at this.”

“I will, but I know you’ll do great. You’ve always been good with your- _ah!”_

Yang talked her through it, offering guidance when an angle was uncomfortable or a touch was too heavy, appreciative moans and shivers whenever she found a sweet spot or brushed Yang’s clit _just right_. Weiss rocked atop her as Yang moved with the sensation, dense muscle tensing and shifting at the careful ministrations. When she came, she came like the break of dawn, soft shudders and sighs and blood rushing to lend a glow to her cheeks as the tension finally flowed from her body.

Weiss slid sideways from her chest, trailing soft kisses down her jaw, neck, collarbone, to lie beside her in the space her right arm might have occupied. They basked in their shared afterglow together, listening in silence as heartbeats slowed and breathing drew calm once more.

Yang broke the silence, as she so often did.

“I think I’m okay with this. I think… I think I’m okay with the hurt, if it means we can be… together. Like this.”

Weiss pressed one more kiss to her shoulder, draped an arm across her chest and drew her closer still, murmuring soft agreement into her lover’s marred skin.


End file.
